


What Water Can't Wash Away

by MarbleAide



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, M/M, Reunions, Scratching, Self-Harm, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1658288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarbleAide/pseuds/MarbleAide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Steve gives up the search, Bucky finally comeback to him, but he's still not really okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Water Can't Wash Away

**Author's Note:**

> Just a drabble I wrote one night after I got a thought on how Bucky comes back to Steve.

In the end, they don’t find him. After nearly four months and not a trace of Bucky to be found anywhere, they call it all off. Sam doesn’t mention anything, because he can see the crushed look in Steve’s eyes when he finally decided enough was enough. They part ways to their separate apartments after that with a promise to go for a run together in the morning, but Sam’s doubtful that will happen. Even so, he makes the plans and promises, not daring to get his hopes up if Steve doesn’t show. He knows what it feels like to lose your wingman. He has no idea how it feels to lose him twice, so giving Steve a bit of time and space is the least he can do.

 

In the end, he finds him. As if Bucky was just waiting for them to stop looking, watching until Steve finally gave up, which just might have been the case, because as soon as he’s turning off the kitchen light to finally go to sleep, a knock echoes out through his quiet apartment. He pauses, as if thinking he’s heard something, and waits.

The knock at the door comes again and, this time, he gets up to answer it.

The breath gets knocked out of him in a way that he can only remember asthma feeling like, hard to draw in air to his lungs no matter how deep he breathes. He has no idea what to do or say, standing in the doorway with his best friend he’s been searching for just standing there looking equal parts confused and embarrassed.

Minutes pass, he knows it, because Bucky is shifting from foot to foot now and his flesh and blood fingers are curling uneasily at his side. In the end, Bucky finally breaks the silence.   
“Can I come in?” He asks, voice raw, but the words are said in such a steady manner Steve can tell he practiced them.

The question finally snaps Steve back to reality, taking in a sharp breathe and nodding frantically, still a little scared to use his own voice, as he stands aside to let Bucky in.

He looked tired, Steve quickly noticed, not showing in his stance or the way he came in, but just his eyes. His gaze looked heavy, eyes dimmed and just that much out of focus. The clothes he wore, dirty and worn, hung bagging against his frame and Steve could tell if he gripped Bucky’s shoulder he’d be able to feel the bones sharp under his hand.

But Steve didn’t touch him. Didn’t hug him to his chest like he wanted, just stood there with his best friend’s back to him.

"B-Bucky?" He said after a long moment, throat too dry and voice cracked.

No answer came for a time, and Steve didn’t dare repeat himself. He knew Bucky heard him, he just had to wait. Steve had waited this long, he could wait a little bit longer.

"Can I…use your shower?" Was the next thing out of Bucky’s mouth and all Steve could do was agree, nodding again as he moved slowly to show him to the bathroom, grabbing a fresh towel from the hall closet along the way.

"I’ll, ah, I’ll…make us something to eat, alright?" Steve said, still not sure what territory he stood on right now. At any second Bucky could decide to leave again or attack him or…anything really. But when nothing happened besides Bucky’s nod of agreement, followed by him pulling his sweater off, Steve knew for the time being things would be alright. Bucky wouldn’t run. And he could count that a victory.

"Right," Steve sighed, licking his lips as he moved to close the door. "If you need anything just call or…or I’ll be in the kitchen." He didn’t close the door all the way, just in case, but left Bucky on his own to give him privacy.

—-

He waited until steam filled the room, curling around him and fogging up the mirror. Only then did he turn to it, seeing the blurred out shape of himself. He didn’t need to see himself to know he looked like shit. He could practically feel the worry and concern radiating off of Steve when they were in the hall. Besides, he didn’t exactly feel like staring at himself right now.

The water was hot beating down against his skin, a sensation he had long since forgotten, and as soon as he determined that feeling of ease forming in his stomach, Bucky immediately turned the shower knob all the way towards the red, standing under the spray, waiting until it turned scolding and made his skin red. It burned, and only then did he decide it was good enough to grab up the soap and washcloth Steve provided for him to start cleaning the grim from his body.

It was a process, scrubbing the dirt from his figure, the water running brown and gray as he washed until there was no part of his body the cloth hadn’t touched. Then, he moved to his hair, pulling the nearly-snapped hair tie from his mane and began scrubbing shampoo into his scalp. The knots and tangles made it a little harder going, but after the first few caught his fingers Bucky decided to simply pull them out, not caring about the strands of hair that came out with them.

It hurt, but he didn’t react, figuring it was only just. He pulled and tugged and torn until his fingers ran freely, looking down to find the clumped knots and strands of hair plastered around the bathtub. His fingers twitched. It wasn’t enough.

So, Bucky started the job of cleaning again. This time though, he grew a little bit concerned when the water wasn’t running with dirt, because he still felt dirty, filthy, standing naked in dirt, grim, gore. His breath hitched and he scrubbed harder.   
His skin grew raw and redder, even as the water started to grow cold as it fell upon him, but that still didn’t feel like enough.

Bucky gave a growl of frustration, scrubbing the washcloth down his arms over and over, fingers pressing hard into his stomach and chest, but still the water was clear even though he knew it shouldn’t be.

He let out a sound of almost panic from his throat, tossing the cloth down and grabbed up the soap again, pouring it into his palm before going at his flesh with bare hands. His fingers dug harder, giving way to his nails and the metal of his other hand easily breaking the skin with the force he used.

The pain spiked up his back, the tingling edge of it spreading through his spine, his muscles twitching with it, but looking down the water was tinted now with red, which seemed right in his mind, so Bucky continued scratching and trying to get himself clean.

It felt better in a way. Felt like there was something lifting from his shoulders, if only by a few fractions. The blood continued running down the drain, so Bucky moved from his arms and shoulders to his chest, abdomen, clawing into his skin in his attempt to get clean.

He hadn’t realized he had fallen to his knees as he cleaned and hadn’t realized he began screaming until the bathroom door slammed open, shower curtain being torn away, and Steve was there, right there with him kneeling in the shower, arms wrapped around Bucky’s form.

His hands were torn away from his body, so he gripped onto Steve’s arms instead, digging his fingers to which Steve let him, let him cling as he knelt wide eyed and yelling.

"Bucky,"

He heard the voice, far off in his ear, but it was familiar. Safe.

"Buck, please."

He couldn’t breathe. He was still dirty. He needed to—

"Come back to me."

His voice cracked. Lungs empty. And he squeezed his eyes closed and leaned into Steve’s tight embrace, took in a shaky breathe and screamed again, louder, let all his frustrations and sorrows fall forth, but Steve was there, soaked now from the cold water falling down on them, and he didn’t let him go, he would never, it was going to be okay.

"It’s going to be okay, Buck, I’m here."

And, for the first time in a long time, Bucky believed that.


End file.
